Why Does My Heart Cry?
by Got Scots
Summary: The story of a young, distressed Christian. LOADS of Christian bashing and his questions about love. I beg of you to review!
1. Through His Messy, Dark Brown Bangs

Why Does My Heart Cry?

--The Story of a Young Writer--

There was a place he often travelled to. A nice place. A place where the creatures had been told were nonexistent thrived. A place where the smoke from the trains smelled like the kitchen when his mum used to make strawberry jam. A place where the clouds tasted like sugar and the lake was surrounded by cherry trees. It was a place where the sun was made of gold and the moon was carved out of silver. You could travel anywhere you wanted from this place--Paris, Edinburgh or even the Americas. It was a place sprinkled with happiness and love. And in the middle of this place was a small school desk where Christian could write.

"Christian!" Ms. Ellroy howled. He hopped out of his imaginary writing place and tried to nonchalantly slip his writing parchment under his arithmetic book. Ms. Ellroy clacked down the isle of desks in her heels. She was an older woman with grey hairs whisking off the top of her head. For some reason she still tried to dress like the younger ladies in town. Christian didn't like that at all.

The young boy stared nervously up at her through his messy, dark brown bangs. His lips were too busy quivering to talk. "Are you writing again?" Ms. Ellroy frowned.

"Y-yes ma'am," Christian's voice cracked--as usual.

"See me after class."

The kids in the classroom stared at Christian with smirks and wide eyes. It was as if _he_ were wearing Ms. Ellroy's bright, red clacky shoes. He stared down at his desk and tried to hide his shaky, watery eyes with his long hair.

All through arithmetic he tried to stay focused, but he hadn't been able to since his mother died. His mother was the only one who ever excepted his writing, but other than that, he couldn't think of many logical reasons why. Then again, Christian wasn't good at thinking up logical reasons for anything.

When Ms. Ellroy called for dismissal, Christian shuffled up to her desk, his head hung low. "You are a wonderful writer, Christian," Ms. Ellroy smiled from her desk. "But that doesn't mean you can't _try_ in your other subjects."

"I _am_ trying," Christian heard his voice crack on the word "am".

"Is there anything you need help with? Arithmetic perhaps?"

"Eh... no. But thanks."

"Alright. You let me know, Christian. I can help you in any subject."

"Thank you, Ms. Ellroy." Christian could feel a sickening, anxious feeling in his stomach as he exited the classroom.

He slung his bag over his shoulder and carried his lunch pail in his hand. He shoved the door open and stepped outside into the sunny, Spring air. He loved the sun. The way it illuminated ordinary things like berries and spider webs and Betsey Pendreigh's silvery eyes. Yes, he had had a crush on Ms. Pendreigh since the third grade. And ironically, she had been in his class every since. Come to think of it, this was their fourth year together.

As he watched her laughing with her friends in the schoolyard, he thought about what it would be like to kiss her and fall in love with her. He knew that he would fall in love someday, he just didn't know when. His thoughts were interrupted by Ms. Ellroy's squeaky voice, "You forgot to shut the door, Christian!"

_Ah, so he had. _Christian turned around, closed the door to his classroom and began walking around the school towards his house. As he turned the corner of one of the brick walls, he was met with a punch.

Christian took a surprised breath in as he stumbled to the ground. From behind the wall, Edmund emerged. He took a few arrogant steps in the new leather boots his father had bought him and stared down at the poor, stupid kid who never paid attention in class. "Brian says it was _you_ who put worms in my lunch yesterday," Edmund growled.

"I didn't put any--_ow_!" Edmund kicked Christian where it really counted. Christian curled up into the foetal position, his hands over his crotch muttering, "Stop, stop, stop..."

Edmund kicked his leg and then his crotch again. "Why do you torcher me, Christian?" he asked as he made his hands into fists. He bent over the boy and what remained of their class gathered around. Christian blinked a few times and spotted Betsey and her friends out of the corner of his eye. He nearly melted right there in embarrassment.

"Edmund, please--" he tried to ask nicely. But, he was only returned with a punch in the face.

Christian sucked in air and tried to breath as Edmund tackled him. He was terrified. He wasn't strong. He didn't know how to fight. And he would make a fool of himself in front of the entire class--including Betsey. Still, Edmund continued to pummel him with punches in the nose, jaw and eye. Suddenly, Christian felt blood mixed with tears dripping into his mouth. He started sobbing uncontrollably. He blinked through his tears and managed swats and slaps at Edmund.

"Edmund, _stop_!" Betsey's cry rang loud and clear over the murmurs of the other school kids.

Edmund failed to listen. He continued to claw at a hysterically sobbing Christian. Christian blinked and saw Betsey racing inside. Seconds later she raced outside pulling Ms. Ellroy by the hand. "They're at it again!" she cried. Christian and Edmund had gotten into fights several times, but this would be the first time Betsey interfered.

Ms. Ellroy reached down and grabbed Edmund's shoulders. He successfully kicked Christian one last time before being pulled away by the teacher. For some reason Christian still could not stop crying. He stood up but his body wilted and he found it hard to walk. He limped over to Ms. Ellroy and tried to thank her, but she was too busy calming Edmund down. "Alright everyone," she said as she dragged Edmund inside to talk. "Get on home."

Once the two of them were inside, Christian's eyes lit up as he realized what had happened. He limped as fast as he could over to Betsey. His crying had slowed down now and he tried his best to wipe the tears and blood off of his face. "Betsey," he said softly as he neared her. Her friends faded away and began talking. Christian moved as close to her as he could.

"Christian," Betsey's eyelashes fluttered.

Christian's stomach fluttered too and his insides began shaking. He breaths were nervously irregular and his eyes grew wide. "You saved me. Thank you." He was shaking and sweating all over and his lips were trembling. He kept telling himself he could do this but he wasn't sure. His hands stood awkwardly between her body and his. He was afraid to touch her. He closed his eyes and leaned in for a kiss, but Betsey backed up.

"You're welcome, Christian. Sorry. I've gotta go."

* * *

_Wow. So okay, it's a brand new Moulin Rouge story. I'm hoping this one isn't like the others. I hope this is a new idea and I hope you like it. But there's something I've gotta say._

_As I was writing this story that it kind of parallel's to my life and my character in some parts. It's freaking me out. Notice I said SOME parts. I've never gotten beaten up or tried to kiss someone named Betsey but still. Please read and review--good comments or bad. I love you no matter what you write in your review._

_Got Scots?_


	2. A Brilliant Idea

Why Does My Heart Cry?

Chapter Two

"_Why_ are you so late?" Christian's father didn't even look up from his paperwork to examine his boy. When Christian didn't reply, the old greying man turned around from his wooden desk. "Oh," he said softly. He grumbled, got up and quickly walked over to get a wet towel.

He returned to his son and dabbed the towel under his nose, alongside his mouth and anywhere else with a trace of blood. "Edmund?" he asked solemnly.

Christian nodded his head and whimpered.

Charles, Christian's father, smiled at him weakly. "Did you fight back this time?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Father!" Christian whined. He was amazed at how his father's responses were so demanding. He wasn't even _at_ the school to see what happened. Christian stomped away towards the window. "How can you expect me to fight a boy double my size?" He flung his arms up in the air.

Charles watched his boy star out the window brusquely. He looked him over. He was a downright skinny kid--always had been. He had never taken much interest in sports and never really developed any muscle. And to make it even worse, he didn't eat much anymore. He was always locked up in his room doing his silly writing. Charles sighed and asked, "How did it happen, Christian?"

"He blamed me for putting worms in his food." He choked on the last word.

"And...?"

"And that's it, Dad," Christian cried as he turned to face his father. Charles realized there was a silent tear finding it's way down Christian's cheek. "For some reason, kids stronger than me like to tease me and then beat me up!"

"Christian, it's--"

"_Stop! _All you're gonna tell me is that I should try out for some sports team!" Christian let out a short sob and then stomped up to his room.

* * *

_She reached out and grabbed his hands. She had saved his life and he just made her smile the way his hair danced across his face as he beamed with happiness. She bent over and brushed his lips lightly with hers. The two of them could feel it right then. A fluttering shock glued their feet to the floor and their lips to each other. They knew only then that they were in love._

Christian slammed the pen down and burst into tears. It had never been a problem with him that he lived in an imaginary world where he could do anything he wanted. That sort of thing never bothered him until he was shoved back into reality like today. Or rather... punched. Tears streamed down his cheeks and plopped onto his paper, blurring out the words he had worked on so hard to write. He smiled weakly at himself and told himself that everything was going to be alright. But he pounded his desk when he realized he didn't believe it.

Downstairs, his father sat, unable to focus on his work. Christian was such a frustrating person to live with. Charles knew he didn't understand his son but couldn't find a way to get close to him. He didn't enjoy writing which seemed to be the only thing Christian cared about since his mother died.

In his room, Christian threw things. He hurled his writing notebook at his bed. He threw his shoes at the wall and he flung his pen in the direction of the closet. He even hurled himself at his bed and sobbed into the pillow until he had an idea. A few days ago, his whole class had been invited to Betsey's birthday party. He, of course, had declined the invitation knowing that he would get too nervous around her. _But maybe, _Christian thought. _If I write her a poem for her birthday she will fall in love with me. I'll give it to her at school and she'll read it and then she'll fall in love with me. _Christian let out a happy sigh at the relief of his brilliant idea.

* * *

_So... I hope it sounds more like it was written in the right time period. I had written some of this chapter a lot earlier and couldn't change some of it. I'm thinking the next chapter will be the last unless I get some brilliant idea like Christian did. Hmmm... I really don't know what should happen next. Dun dun dun._

_Oh, by the way--this is so exciting. In my acting class, I get to do a scene where I act like Satine. It's a scene about a guy who likes an actress but the actress just wants him to leave. It's pretty awesome._


	3. Do You Love Me?

_Sorry this took so long to get up! For full effect, listen to El Tango de Roxanne while reading!_

"Betsey, wait! I need to talk with you!" Christian said urgently.

"Class is about to start," Betsey hurried to her seat, not even looking Christian in the eye.

"Betsey, please," Christian begged. "Just... just give me one minute."

"_Christian_! Sit down," Ms. Ellroy demanded. Christian soon realized that the whole class was silent and staring at him. He quickly took his seat.

He got out his history book and discreetly slipped the poem out of his pocket. He read it over and over again and felt that it was his best work. He could not and would not change anything about it. His stomach churned back and forth the entire two hours before lunch.

As the students filed outside to eat, Christian kept his eyes on Betsey. He had to make sure he was sitting near Betsey and her friends. He set down his lunch pail, worked up all his courage and walked over to her.

He stood before her and her friends and a few of them took one glance at him and giggled. Christian, however was not put off. He was going to fall in love someday and that day was going to be today. "Betsey, I'd um... I'd like to speak with you."

"Sure, Christian," Betsey turned to her friends only to be returned by giggles. She stood up and she and Christian began walking.

"I em... realized it was your birthday today an I'm eh... sorry I couldn't come to your party so I... well, I wrote you this."

Betsey smiled politely and took the fresh, neat piece of paper out of his sweaty hands. She read to herself...

Like a medal of gold,

You are always shining.

You make me want to smile myself.

Like a spring bird,

You are always happy.

You make me want to sing you a song.

I don't know what I would do,

If you turned dark and gloomy and blue.

So keep shining, Betsey.

You make me want to smile myself.

Betsey's wide smile grew wider as she read the poem. Christian busied himself by watching the swift breeze make the grass tremble and watching the clouds swamp the blue sky. He hated the feeling that grew in his stomach when people were reading his work. He could never truly tell what their reaction would be without looking directly at them. And he found it rude to stare at someone while they were trying to read. He took a deep breath in and Betsey looked up from the poem. "This is great, Christian," she beamed, "Thank you."

"Do you really love the poem?" Christian asked with concern.

"Yes, I love it," Betsey said gleefully.

"Do you love _me_?" Christian asked hopefully.

Betsey's laugh was full of embarrassment. "I... I don't know, Christian."

"Oh," Christian bowed his head.

"No, no, no," Betsey smiled. She tried to look into his eyes, but his hair was shielding those slate-grey gems. "I like you, Christian. You're a nice person. But I'm not ready to go on a date with you. And I just don't... _love _you."

"I understand," Christian smiled weakly and began walking over to his lonely lunch pail. It was just like him--lonely, abandoned but shining. Shining with the beams of sunlight pouring from above. It was glowing and waiting--_hoping_ for someone to find it.

_So... I hope you all enjoyed this short little story about that precious boy, Christian. You'll probably catch more Christian fics by me later--I absolutely love him! No matter how you feel about this story, I accept all reviews! Especially LONG reviews that tell me how wonderful I am. Hehehe..._

_-Got Scots?_


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